The Red Shoes
by Ninadesucre
Summary: Trying to figure out how the normal relationships works, Steve and Summer stayed at her place to watch 'The Red Shoes' film. Steve thinks about the right kind of love, the one that doesn't force you choose over the two thing you love the most -Summer knows she can't make him choose over her or being a hero, but does he know the two things Summer wants? [ONE SHOT] [SMUT] [STEVE/OC]


**HELLO EVERYONE! First of all, English is not my first language so… sorry for all the grammar mistakes! Duh. I'm bringing up to you my first one shot about my OTP (Steve/Summer is my OTP, ok? Even they're not canon, lol). Anyway, this story was an idea I had long time ago for a "long" chaptered fic… but I'm not sure about starting it… x_x… So if this one shots works out and people like it, maybe I'm going to write the chaptered fic **** Idk. The plot sets after The Avengers but before The Winter Soldier **

**READ FIRST****!- Summer Strauss is my original character: Tony's half-sister (Howard was her father, but was raised by her mother, Lynette Strauss/Barton –Clint's big sister, Barney's twin) –they're not very close, Howard never publicized he had another kid so Tony and Summer never grow up as brother and sister.**

**And I think that's all you have to know to understand the story.**

* * *

When her eyes met his, he knew what she was going to say –but Steve couldn't help but forgetting about the TV-Show and centering his total attention on her. The way her eyes lighted up –reflecting the television screen; the way she played with her hair, curling it with her fingers –an unconscious tic she hadn't notice yet and he secretly loved; the way her legs had crossed and the skirt had lift up a little bit, exposing the skin of her thigh. "You _don't_ like it." The magic moment was over, she jumped out of the sofa and turned off the TV in a blink of an eye. "We have to work in _our dates_." As she said that, her eyes avoided him –nervous and, Steve was sure about it, bordering a panic attack.

_Dates_. The word echoed in his mind, in plural. _Of course, two meetings seeing no more but old repositions of TV shows were a date._ "I thought…" But what he thought or what he was thinking right now it didn't matter. Summer was freaking out internally, non-caring about his calm and peaceful expression.

"You _think_ I'm boring." She sighed, still avoiding his eyes. "I'm not good with these things… Never be, never will be." He smiled with tender –resisting the temptation to stand up and kiss her. But it was a bad idea and he had to press his lips together instead. "What about a movie? At the cinema?" She moved her arms, showing her little excitement for the new idea. "That's _normal couple_ use to do, right? Popcorn and a movie."

"Yeah… Maybe." He tried to undercover his low enthusiasm but failed miserably and Summer instantly noticed, misunderstanding what he was actually thinking.

Steve didn't _want_ what _normal_ people used to have, after all he wasn't normal –and neither Summer, even she had always pretended to be. He was Captain America, a super soldier, a man out of time that found extremely pointless the current movies he had been forced to watch recently –Summer had a secret guilty pleasure for Sandra Bullock's films and Steve couldn't count the times he wished been trapped in the ice again instead of watching one of those films for the second (or third) time.

After they had sent Loki back to the world he belonged –more or less, Steve had enjoyed a few days off until Director Fury asked him to join SHIELD. It was a hard decision to make. There was a lot of secrets surrounding the agency and he wasn't good dealing with lies and hiding information, but by the other hand he loved the idea of to feel the sensation of being useful again –helping people, being Captain America, giving hope and justice to the world.

Also Summer was an agent, and the idea of working with her didn't disgust him –most of all because that would bring him the opportunity to take care after her.

Even she didn't need his help, he **needed** to ensure she was safe and sound.

She had changed his little and _chaotic_ world in a way he didn't expect –since the day he had woken up and Summer was there, watching him horrified with that eyes he adored too much now. Their relationship hadn't been easy –finding out she was actually working for SHIELD didn't help it, at all; but little by little was _working out_. More or less.

She claimed not been _good _with the relationship things? Neither he was or will be. His longest date was the day he had seen Howard Stark for the first time and the girl had been so disappointed on him that couldn't count as _date-date_.

"Just forget the popcorn and the movie." He said, waking up from his thoughts, and reached her –putting his arms around her hips, closing the distance between them. "Let's stay home and watch the TV, it's fine for me… Really."

The cinema was too dark to see her face, her eyes, and her expression. Not an option right now. _And the chairs_? He hated them in a way he didn't believe he could hate an object. They're really… tiny –his body was much bigger now since the last time he had been at one, when he had been the little/skinny Steve Rogers; and they, the chairs, didn't offer him the option to be as close as he wanted to be to Summer.

"Okay." She replied, thanked. "We'll have popcorn and a movie _**here**_."

"That sounds good to me." He smiled, looking up to see her face, her lips. They're parted, wet because she had another unconscious tic –licking her lips too much when she was going to freak out, but as sooner he pulled her to him Summer took a step back, distracted, not noticing his intentions, breaking the contact.

"Cool, I'll make the popcorn, you choose the movie." She turned around, making her way to the kitchen. "Over there." He followed her finger pointing, finding a library –mostly filled with books but there was a little part dedicated to movies. _Thanks god_, Steve thought instantly when he jumped out and went there, none of them were starring by Miss Bullock.

One picked his attention after reading all the titles. **The red shoes** directed by Michael Powell and Emeric Pressburger; starring Moira Shearer as the main role. As he could deduce, the movie was named after the fairytale written by Hans Christian Andersen, centered on the world of ballet.

As far as he knew, Summer used to go to ballet dancing lessons when she was younger but had given up on them after the dead of her father, Howard Stark. _Long story_, Tony said to him, shutting him out of making more questions about it. The agility and the facility Summer had shown at the battle against the aliens had made sense after that revelation, it _did _explain a lot of things. "Did you pick?" She asked, breaking his thoughts with her voice, rushing on the living room carrying a bowl full of popcorn. "Oh… _That _one." Her eyes flew opened, perplexed. "I-I totally forgot I had it."

She stepped the distance between them and took the dvd, centering her attention on the movie. Now she was close to him again, he had another opportunity but, _again_, it wasn't the right moment for a stolen kiss.

He didn't even recognize himself –thinking about to steal a kiss? What would say Bucky about that? _Hey! Look at that! My Steve is growing up!_ He would have made fun of it, raising his eyebrows with mischievous, pushing him into taking the next step. For the god's sake, he wouldn't shut up about his own sexual experience to warn him, to give him some advice.

Unfortunately, Tony had got that last part two days ago. Surprising him at his own apartment, the Stark had talked a lot about his half-sister and how much she meant to him –it had been too much awkward, most of all because the two half-siblings weren't too close before the alien attack. Nothing reunited people better as the fact of losing someone important for both of them, giving the chance of united forces against the enemy. _Whatever_, Summer and Tony weren't now the best sister and brother of the world… but, at least, they tolerated each other in the same room. At that was enough for Steve.

But that wasn't the point. _The point_ was the awkwardness Tony had brought into the conversation the moment he started to talk about _the sexual necessities_ of her sister. Steve almost died from a heart attack, if that was possibly for him, when he heard Tony bringing the matter to the talk. His mouth had gone dry, his eyes had started to blink too much, and he had wished at that moment to be banished in the air. At least, Summer hadn't told him how much _far_ did they _went_ into _their relationship_ but that didn't make the point easily. His mind had abandoned his body for… maybe twenty minutes of the importance of _using_ fingers and _the right places_ for kissing? He couldn't say for sure.

"This is… _uh_…" Steve came back to the earth with the sound of her voice, her cheeks had turned red, giving her an adorable look. "…my favorite movie." She paused, looking at him with mistrust. "Did you know it?" The Captain shook his head, thanked to have chosen the perfect one. "Really? It's—_Hum_—" She sighed. "Dad, Howard, brought me to see the ballet of The Red Shoes when I was ten… After that, I begged to mom for an entire week to buy the film and take dancing lessons. Mom almost had lost her mind because of my persistence… We hadn't enough money to pay the lessons so…"

"But Howard did it." Summer sighed, shrugging her shoulders.

"Something like that…" The walls were up, he wasn't able to get more information about it. "Are you sure you want to see this one?" She raised her eyebrows. "It's not too much—_girly_?"

"Girly?" He asked, confused. "Do you think is _girly_ to enjoy that kind of movies?" Summer didn't answer, she was lost in her own thoughts, thinking about past moments that won't return at her life. Never. Howard had gone away long time ago –dead at a car crash, and maybe he wasn't a good father but, at that point, Steve knew perfectly Summer had been his favorite child so far. A reason Steve was sorry for Tony.

Howard Stark had been a good ally in the past, at the war against Red Skull; but he was terrible at raising a child. As far as Steve knew, Howard had changed a lot since the assumption of Captain America's death. He had started to drink, to become obsessed with the Tesseract and another types of threatens; yeah, he had married Maria and had a little smart kid, Anthony, but that didn't help him to be better. It made him worse.

Steve couldn't imagine the Howard he had known hitting at his own kid, shouting him he wasn't more but a pathetic piece of garbage. But it was real. It had happened.

Howard had crawled into an auto destructive mood until Lynette Barton had shown into his life –Clint's bigger half-sister, she didn't _fully_ save him but helped some way.

"It's based on a book, y'now." Summer was turning on the dvd player the next time he went back at the present. "The red shoes by…"

"Hans Christian Andersen." He interrupted her, his lips curved into a sweet little smile. "I read it long time ago."

"Wait." She couldn't be more surprised at that moment. He sat down again, watching her putting the cd into the machine called _DVD player_. "_You_ read?" She joked, giggling, and as she turned around Steve saw _that look_ in her eyes. _The look_ meant a little bit of fun. "Did you meet Hans Andersen?" She purred, sitting on his lap, letting him being between her legs.

"I-I'm not _that old_." His body had answered instantly to her invitation –a hand placed on her hips, the other one was making his travel to her hair and as soon as he pulled her by the hair gently, he placed a kiss onto that wonderful neck. Tasting her skin, her warm, he could feel her pulse beating fast –just with his lips. "The movie first?" It didn't have to sound like a question, but Steve couldn't help. His body was shouting for _turning off_ the dvd player and _take her_ in that old fashioned sofa.

"I'm not the movie." She said, taking him by surprise, and then her lips went to find his –a slow, tender kiss that had taken the whole time to be tasted. "Nothing is going to change if you watch it… It's not like I'm going to open to you. That's _not_ my story."

"I know." He replied, knowing what she was meaning. "In fact, I want to watch it…" Summer smiled to him, not believing a word but happy for his try. "_Jesus_, you truly are a Stark, aren't you? Too much narcissist and egocentric… I'm not going to watch the movie because of **you**, I'm going to watch it because _I want_. Okay?"

"Okay, _Mister Vintage_." He furrowed his brow at the hearing of the nickname. "Let's see the movie then." She sat down next to him, but leaving her legs resting in his lap and her head in his shoulder. _That_ was the reason he loved the sofa over the cinema's chairs. "I love Shearer's dancing… It's so amazing, so emotive. I cried a lot when—uh—"

"_Ssht_, I'm watching the movie."

The plot was far distance from what he expected. Moira Shearer played Victoria Page, a young ballet dancer that is torn between the man she loves (Julian Craster) and her pursuit to become a prima ballerina (Borís Lérmontov, the owner of the ballet Lérmontov, is also in love with her and can't stay the idea of Vicky leaving him for a romantic life). Julian Craster forced Victoria to choose: The ballet or him.

"Is he really doing _that_?" Summer looked up, confused, not understanding his discontent. "Making choose her over the two things she love the most is… _well_, cruel. If he truly loved her…" He had to shut up, the movie was close to the end and Summer wasn't listen him anymore. She was holding her breath back, knowing the worst was coming.

Vicky was losing her mind, Julian had abandoned her… Thinking, wrongly, she had chosen the ballet over him. At that point, Victoria can't stand the stress and the hurt for any longer, she commits suicide –wearing the red shoes, dying slowly in her lover's arms. Tragic. _Unfair_. Steve stilled thinking it was something wrong in the way Julian, Vicky's husband, had made her choice between him or the ballet. She could have both things. If he had loved her enough, he would have waited for her until the tour was done. _Right_?

"I'm never going to make you choose between _Captain America_ or _me_." Summer had turned off the dvd player, and now was looking at him, waiting for his reaction. "And the same comes to you, you won't make me choose over the two things I want." He thought instantly about Summer being an Agent of SHIELD, but the reality was another… Something Steve won't know until it's too late.

What Summer was thinking, apart from Steve Rogers, was her _vendetta_. The Winter Soldier, the one who had killed not just her dad but her best friend, was the other part of the promise. She wanted his head in a stick.

"Now the movie is over…" She reached for his neck, placing kisses over the all sensitive skin, her hands had made her way to his shirt and started to pull it up to take it off. "We come to the part we're good at." Her lips curved into a mischievous smile but Steve stopped her before she took off his clothes. "Uh—I thought you want it too… My bad."

"I want something before, -before _this_." His breath rhyme had increased and he had to focus in the reasonable part of his brain to think coherently. "Would you dance for me?" She looked at him like he was mad or had asked the weirdest thing ever, her eyes blinked, confused.

"Are you ask me to dance… uh… like a _sexy dance_?" His cheeks blushed instantly, the total of his blood had concentrated now at his face. "I didn't know you liked those things…" She raised one of her eyebrows. "If that's what you want…"

"No! I didn't—" He laughed nervously. "I meant a… ballet dance. Just for me."

"Oh, uh… I think I'm up to the other option." She jumped out of the sofa, crossing her arms. "Why would you want _that_?" She was giving him withering looks and Steve only could think about how much he did screw up the situation, he had thought it would be a good idea –but clearly it wasn't. "I'm not—uh—I'm not that good, Steve." She was pointing the TV screen, as soon as she did it Steve saw _that look_ in her face. The one that told him she was underestimating herself again. "The last lesson I took was long time ago and… For the god's sake, look at her! She was so—beautiful." She was curling her hair again using her fingers, but not in the same mood as before. "Those pretty eyes… And that red hair… And her dance movements are so…"

It didn't matter how many times he had told her how beautiful she was, she never listened him, never believed a word. _That's what you're supposed to say when you're in love_, Summer had replied every time, shrugging her shoulders, looking down, avoiding to stare at him. Steve couldn't understand _why_ she couldn't see what he actually saw every time he looked at her. She was agile and fast as Natasha was, her aim it could be compared with Clint's skills –after all, he actually trained her. She used to have a strong personality but, of course, there was moment of breaking down –like this one.

Her low self esteem was another characteristic of her personality –always finding the others were better at some point. _And her looking_? Those black chocolate eyes, the ones he saw the first time he woke up at the recovery room –so expressive, so deep, he loved losing himself in them. Her hair was a little bit lighter than her eyes –soft, brunette, wavy. The lips…, the only thought it came to his mind was the things _that wonderful mouth_ could do. She was perfect, in every single way.

"You don't have to do it if you don't want, Summer." Before she could go so far with her thoughts, Steve brought her back to the reality. "Hey, we still have popcorn… You pick a movie this time?" He stood up from the sofa and kissed her gently in the nose. "You're beautiful, you know that?" Again, there wasn't an answer; just that look in her eyes. "I'll be back in a minute." She nodded slowly as he rushed off the living room, making his way to the bathroom.

* * *

Before came again, Steve stopped at the corridor –looking the photographs that were decorating the walls. There were a lot of them and he had never noticed before. A few of them belonged to her young age –when she was just a little and adorable kid, the woman next to her was Lynette –without a doubt. Steve could see how much they looked alike –the eyes, the hair, the form of her face. Then his eyes catch the rest of the photos. No Howard. No Tony. No D.D or Natasha or Clint.

Just Avery James and her. Avery had been her partner since she finished her trained to become an Agent. While Summer was brunette and had dark eyes, Avery was blond and her eyes were blue as the sea in the night. There was a lot of photos of them, showing how much Avery meant to her, how much did she loved her, she was not only a partner but her best friend. Avery was _her Bucky_. Her _wonderwall_. As much as she needed to breath, Summer needed Avery by her side.

If he had to pick, Steve would choose the photo at the beach –couldn't recognize the place because it didn't sound familiar to him. Avery and Summer, at the age of eighteen? Twenty years old? Steve wasn't sure, were posing in front of the sea, hugging each other, smiling to the camera –Avery's smile showed how passionate she used to be, self-confident; Summer was smiling shy, with her cheeks blushing awkwardly.

_Something Summer would regret the rest of her life_? The day Avery had died. And Steve knew perfectly that feeling.

He shook his head –trying not to go to that place, and made his way back to the living room. He stopped at the door as soon as he saw Summer. She was dancing, in silent. The apartment was small and the furniture didn't help to gain more area, but she didn't care. Her movements were elegant, soft, and beautiful. The way her waist unified the motions of her arms and her legs… The skirt flipped every time she turned, exposing her thighs. She had taken off her shoes, barefoot, to be able to dance in a better way.

"You're seeing something you like?" He smiled to her as he stepped the distance, he putted his arms around her waist –pulling her to him. "I told you, I'm not that good." He furrowed, perplexed, _did they saw the same dance_? "But" He held her breath back when she pressed her body against his. "I'm good at _something different_." This time, both of them were agreed, no complaining about that fact. "Easy, boy." Her hands found his as soon as her eyes met him, Steve hadn't realize he was pulling her skirt up –forgetting her waist for a moment, Summer placed his hands at her waist again, giving him a withering look. "No rush."

"Good for me." Their lips pressed together in a long, tender kiss. They had time to take the things slowly –no aliens' invasion, no Ben, no distractions. Just them. His hands traveled to her nape, guiding the kiss, in needed to turn it to something more passionate. _Hungry_ for her lips, for her. The last _date_, a week ago, it didn't end as he had expected –Summer had been distance from him, cold, lost in her own pain and thoughts. And before that, Steve knew and remembered perfectly the last time they had been together. _Together together_. As the flashback returned to his mind, he stopped, glancing at her with a sorry look in his eyes. "The last time…" His hormones were shouting at him to shut _the fondue _up, he was breaking the moment. Summer's lips were parted, breathing, and redder because of the pressure of his lips onto them, tempting him to forget his words and follow his basic instincts. But again, the reasonable part of his brain won.

"I told you, it was okay." She interrupted him, starting to unbutton his shirt but he grabbed her hands before she could finish her task. "It was okay, really, everyone needs to lose control sometimes… You don't have to hold back yourself every time." He shook his head, not agreeing. "Steve… I'm fine, right? For the god's sake, I'm not made of glass! I can handle it!" She giggled and went on tiptoe to kiss his nose as he did before. "You're always so controlled, it's not a bad thing to _let you go_."

"It is when you have my… _strength_." Summer looked down for a moment. She won't admit it, but he had hurt her the last time they had been together and he stilled regret it. He had lost himself too much, blinding because of jealousy, thinking about proving something he didn't need it to prove. He wasn't much better than Julian, from The Red Shoes. Jealousy had the skill to change people into something darker –and Steve wouldn't imagine, before it happen, that he had a dark part hiding, waiting to come up, in himself. "Sorry… I'm not always exactly gentle."

"I never wanted you to be." She replied, smirking, running her hand down his chest –finding the last buttons that stilled buttoned. "Or do you want me to be _a good girl_ every time? Ah?" Now it was his turn to smirk. His hands cupped her face, pulling her into another kiss that took her breath away. "I'm taking that as a '_no_'?" She said pulling away from him, his answer never came, he dropped his lips down to her neck. Tasting the sensitive skin, taking his time to place his lips in the exposed areas he knew it would make her shiver. And as to confirm his theory, a gasp escaped from her lips; her head leaned back, demanding more.

She threw up his shirt without looking, and her hands moved down to his chest to the abdomen, finding the button of his pants. His mouth reclaimed her again, and Summer found herself completely caught up in the way he was kissing her: wild, desperate, hungry, like she was the only thing he wanted in the world right now. He raised her, without breaking the kiss, and she instantly wrapped her legs around his waist. "Bed?" His eyes were fixed on her, begging, and his lips were parted as he breathed heavily, waiting for her answer.

"It doesn't matter to me." Some part of his brain managed to vaguely think about the distribution of the apartment, concluding the bedroom was too far from them now. He carried her to the sofa. Summer was dropped down onto her back with him all four above her, staring at each other for a second. "You should be shirtless all day." He smirked.

"You should be a ballet dancer." His hands were pulling up her shirt and as he did it, his lips kissed the exposed skin of her abdomen.

"And you should be an artist." She replied when she was managed to talk anything than gasps. "You're good at—" She paused to arc herself, closing her eyes, losing her mind for a second. He had grabbed her bra through her shirt, pulling the two clothes over her head at the same time; and now his mouth was closed over her nipple. "-_this_."

"I'm good at drawing or at doing _this_?" She gave him a desperate look, _why he had to stop right now_? Talking was overrated. "I didn't—" She shut him up with a hard kiss, leaving open their mouths to let the tongues to play. He moaned against her mouth as his body pressed onto hers, looking for the friction. Being naked from the waist up wasn't enough to find the end of their needs. His hand slipped back to curve around her back, pulling her body against him as he grounded his hips into her, showing her how much he wanted to have her _now_.

Without wasting time, the rest of the clothes went gone as soon as they managed to pull away from each other. He leaned down towards her as if to kiss her, her lips parted waiting and begging for another kiss. But instead he kept his lips just too far away from hers to reach. She opened her eyes and narrowed them at him, he grinned as she moved, trying to kiss him but failed. "Now you're torturing me?"

"Not my intention." She saw the growing lust in his eyes, far from the innocent he tried to show up. "If I hurt you…" She shook her head and pressed their hips together, in needing, Steve growled abruptly, burying his head against her neck, breathing heavily against it. He had placed himself again between her legs, but before his mind lost into the sensations he managed to think and talk again. "I'm talking serious, Summer… If I—"

"Yeah, yeah, shut up, we don't need a _save word_." Steve was about to replied, in fact, they _needed_ it, the last time they had slept together was a proof… "You always think too much, didn't you?" She cupped his face with her hands, staring at him. _Those eyes_… "If you want to stop, it's okay… There are a lot of movies we can see… What about _Miss Congeniality_?"

"Don't you dare." She giggled but her smile faded away as he pulled her into another kiss, a sweet and short one –and then his lips ran down her neck again but as soon as she gasped, he claimed her mouth but this time with hungry, with needing, and he thrusted into her without warning. Her nails dug into the back of his shoulders, leaving marks above his skin.

He breathed against her neck after leaving her lips and she had to bit them to not curse him –he was in deep on his first stroke and she was still so… _tight_. It didn't hurt too much, but it was on the thin borderline of pleasure and pain. She didn't want to break her promise of handle everything, but as he thrusted again and again she found it difficult.

"Steve." She said with a painful voice. He stopped instantly and Summer felt how he was holding his breath back, afraid, horrified. The first time they had done it, Steve had been shy, careful, concentrated on figure out how he could gave her a lot of pleasure; but after that, after the first barrier of _doing it or not_ had been overpassed, he had freed himself a little bit.

And after losing the control the last time, he had found very hard to hold back his inner instincts. Maybe Tony was right, maybe he had waited too much –seventy years?- to _do it_ again. Now all his needing was exploding as a grenade, forgetting to be gentle or tender in the process of ending that needing. "Just give me time." She begged near to his ear.

"I'm so sorry." He whispered, out of breath. "I f-f-forgot to—" He bitted his low lip, clearly upset with himself. "I'm sorry…"

"I am okay." She lied, closing her eyes as he stayed where he was, allowing her to get used to him. His lips moved, making his way down to her neck, placing wet and warm kisses all over it. And then they moved down to the breasts, closing his mouth again over her nipple as one of his hands found the other one, touching it gently, tenderly. She gasped, arching her body against him, forgetting the pain and finding the goodness.

He started to move in and out of her, slowly. Her head fell back, her mouth fell open with stunned pleasure. "I-I-I'm fine now." He smiled against her skin and looked up to see her expression –the pain grimaces had gone away, now the lust was conquering her look.

"Good." He whispered, pulling her into a deep, needed kiss as he couldn't stand it anymore, couldn't control himself for any longer. Taking their time had been fine for him –it had worked their first time, taking all the minutes to know the body of the other… But _fine_ wasn'tenough right now.

He _wanted_ to let himself go, trusting his own body to know hers well enough to cause no pain and only pleasure.

He abruptly pushed her hands down on the bed, either side of her head, covering them with his own –her fingers laced through his, and he began to push hard and deeper. When he pulled away from the kiss, he pressed his nose against the curve where the neck and the shoulder met, Summer could feel his hot breaths hitting against the sensitive skin.

He freed one of her hands to raise her right leg up, adjusting himself for a better angle –and as soon as he did, her nails dug into his back. Hard. Fast. Passionate. She felt herself losing ground, feeling near to the end. And the second she started to come, he did it too. Steve pressed even deeper into her as he shuddered in pleasure; he came with one final thrust.

Exhausted, his head fell down to the crook of her neck. It took him a moment to get his sense again, he raised his head and looked down to her, worry etched in his face. "Did I—" Summer's eyes flew open, staring at him with anything but love. "Did I hurt you?" She smiled to him –a lovely and powerful smile.

"That was the opposite of hurting." He sighed, relieved, and rested his head into her shoulder. "But can we switch our positions? You're heavy." He hadn't notice it until she had said it, after kissing her tenderly they switched the positions and Steve grabbed a blanked from the ground to cover them up. "Better."

His hands started to move slowly up and down through her back as her head fell down to his chest. "I—" But he shut up before saying _the three words_, he had to be careful with telling her his feelings. The last time he had said _I love you_, Summer had gone for weeks –even Avery had been freaking out about her friend's missing. So instead of that, he found another three perfect words to tell her. "You're beautiful." She raised her head up, looking at him, smiling at him.

"You too."

* * *

**Did you guys like it? Because I do! *_* By the way, this is the first time I write smut! –at least in English. I'm proud of myself even it's bad XD lol.**

**Please review with opinions! :D I want to know if I should write the chaptered fic or not D: so… help?**


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